


who you are

by wingspike



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Falling In Love, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingspike/pseuds/wingspike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five lifetimes odin fell in love and one where it really felt right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who you are

**Author's Note:**

> i can't stop writing zero/odin just dox me.  
> title and mentioned lyrics from who you are by blackbear! please listen.

_so i keep down below, who you are, who you are to me /_  
_you're still my favorite thing in the world._

_\---_

**I.**  
Owain is younger when he locks eyes with him, perched on a horse in a typical parade through the fort his group has arrived at because it is only customary considering his position as prince. He's here to assert himself as much as he doesn't want to, as much as he wants to avoid border duty because this isn't something he's normally up to doing, as politics are not his forte. These sorts of things are for his cousin who rightfully rules, who will rightfully take place as Exalt when his uncle steps down. The royal life isn't for him.

He knows this in the way he subtly rebels, in the way he sneaks off to spend time with the two that will probably become his retainers, one day. For now, though, he wants them to just be his friends. If he could have it his way, he would always keep them as only his friends and nothing more. They're the last he would want hurt protecting him, of all things. He's already suffered that once before with his mother and father.

Still, he's happy when the procession is over and he can sneak away to the chambers that have been prepared specifically for him. They're large, with high ceilings and bleached wood and marble with intricate carvings and windows that span wide and clear along the far wall to the view of rolling hills below that stretch for miles before they break away to separate bath chambers. It's a view he can appreciate and enjoy, despite his apprehension for being here.

He knows his hesitancy isn't without reason, though; he knows it's for a _good reason_ when several fortnights pass quiet before there's a small attack when he's out riding on an off night when he can't sleep.

It's small, a group of bandits looking to off a prince for whatever their own reasons may be. He figures it might not be the worst way to go but also isn't the most honorable. After all, who ever heard of a prince who died of a wound to the arm?

Still, he manages to escape, grateful that his horse was rested yet cursing himself all the same for not bringing a weapon of his own. It's easier to clutch a hand to his arm without one to worry about, though, rushing to his room after tossing the reins of his horse to a stable boy that's half-awake when he dismounts (who he will make a point to apologize to later).

He makes it to his room but is startled when he hears a knock on his door, stalling before he opens it just a crack. Owain recognizes him as the male he saw in the courtyard when they'd come in days ago.

"Yes?" He sounds unsure when he says it.

"Milord, I only noticed you came in injured. I'm trained in healing, if you'd like me to look at it."

And he pauses again, because the last thing he wanted was anyone to notice he was hurt. He lets him in, anyways, sits down and endures the burn of a hand firm on his upper arm as white healing magic glows soft and knits his wound slow. In that moment he almost feels like he could pass out, yet he's too focused on the hand against him, on the lips forming incantations and now sentences. He snaps his gaze up quick from his mouth, cheeks dusting red.

"I'm sorry, but my skill isn't high enough for scar removal. You'll probably have to go to a castle medic for that."

Owain smiles then, shrugs like it's nothing because he doesn't care if he's not pristine like a prince ' _should be_ '. It's cooler to have the scars, he thinks, and he speaks like it really isn't anything.

"What's your name?"

"Zero."

And it dawns on him because somehow he knows, even if this isn't the life meant for more.

**II.**  
He hates this life where he suffers through term papers and even worse, _finals_. They're drawing in closer and Odin can't even begin to wrap his mind around how many papers he will be finishing or how many lines he will need to memorize for classes on top of the lines he's already memorizing for the current play that's coming up. It comes naturally to him and is something that he's good at - just like he's good at swordplay in fencing lessons, like he's good at reciting something with minimal stumbles from the start, like he's good with the kids that come to campus for theatre workshops.

Love isn't something he's good at. He could have sworn he was in love with his best friend at one point, but it was also something that never went anywhere because they were young and dumb and knowing him, he was bound to ruin that friendship along the way.

Love is something he feels when he sees Zero for the first time across the library when he looks up from a book for one of his literature classes, catching him typing on a laptop while occasionally glancing at the book next to him. Probably a reference, he assumes.

He still knows him in this life, can still feel the tug on his heart and the vague memories that follow. Odin already feels like he knows the warmth of his skin and the touch of his lips, yet it's something he doesn't currently have in this life (and something he isn't sure he ever will).

Even then, he takes his chances and stands from where he was pouring over the book (that admittedly was pretty boring), dumping it into his bag and zipping it. There's a piece of him that wants to hesitate while another mans up until all he feels he can hear is his heart in his ears and his footsteps that echo more than they should be. He stops in front of him and gives him what he figures is his best smile before he is returned with a gaze that seems all too knowing for their situation.

"Hey."

His voice is lower than he remembers but it doesn't stop him from taking the seat next to him, feeling a little breathless while his heart flutters at the smile directed back at him.

"Hey. It's been a long while, hasn't it?"

**III.**  
In this life he knows things have been doomed from the start. Things aren't how they should have been (or rather how he hoped they would be). He's remembered and seen as a friend, but nothing more than that. Nothing like they have been fated to be in their past lives.

Odin can't quite find it in himself to complain too much, though. This isn't a life where Zero isn't present, a life where he's gone somewhere or never born or passed away before he has the chance to meet him. He doesn't have to hold onto flowers and set them at a grave of someone he's irrevocably in love with in each timeline, doesn't have to watch him in passing to never be known.

This time they're friends. It's something, he thinks, but not what he wants.

What he wants is to be with Zero, not to watch him happy across the room with someone who isn't him. He doesn't want to watch him in the bakery he works in while a tanned hand slides over one that's pale like the starlight he knows he probably still loves. It hurts to watch him with Leon, to watch them smile to each other in ways that Odin has never seen him smile.

In this life Zero is not his, yet he supports him anyways. He can still recall the moment they met when they were younger, when they all became friends. He remembers when Zero finally decided to trust him with his secrets and confessed to him that he was thinking about asking Leon out, despite how different their social standings were and how devoted he was, even then. Odin remembers supporting him, uplifting him and encouraging him to do it. He just didn't expect it when it finally happened.

In this life, he finds himself content enough to watch from the sidelines but uneasy when he knows what could have been.

**IV.**  
War is not kind. War gets drawn out, is tiring, is fully exhausting. War typically keeps him on his toes but the exhaustion he feels deep in his bones that has settled there after days of meetings and hours of his sword clashing with others is starting to wear on him.

He knows it the instant a well timed parry knocks his own from his hands, the heavy metal falling to the ground. Odin doesn't have time to think twice or to pick it up, can't wait a second more than he already has to pull out his tome and begin to recite the incantations of familiar spells that he has long since memorized.

Even then, he isn't fast enough, the glow at the tips of his fingers suddenly disappearing with a snap of electricity up his arm when he's hit. He sees the arrow in his side before he registers the pain that begins to spread. _Laced_.

He doesn't hesitate to pull it out, caught off guard again when he's kicked and the shaft of the arrow snaps. It makes him cry out through gritted teeth, teeth biting into his cheek to keep himself quiet as he looks up to see who his attacker is.

And it's him. It's _him_ and he knew something wasn't right this time when he hadn't seen him sooner than this. He's there above him with an arrow pointed at his throat and a frown on his lips. Odin knows Zero still recognizes him anyways from the flash of recognition in his gaze before he's drawing back the arrow and aiming it at someone coming towards them.

He doesn't mean to flinch but he thought that was going to be his last moment and even one without a word, yet somehow it isn't. Odin blinks slow up to the outlaw, brow furrowed while he wipes dirt and drying blood off his face with the back of his hand.

"What are you doing?!"

He's angry when it comes out. A tone he never would have dared use before, but he does anyways because nothing about this is right so why should he have to fit into the puzzle?

"I could ask you the same thing, Odin."

His own name falls on his ears like it's foreign, eyes widening a fraction because this time he really knows. He _really_ knows and despite being in the middle of a battlefield, he finds it promising.

**V.**  
He's at castle Krakenburg with Laslow for a festival, invited directly to Nohr from their neighboring kingdom. Odin is content when there is no war, when there is a prospect of seeing the man he has known for many other lifetimes. The only difference is that in this lifetime, he can't find a care in the world when it comes to lowering himself to a retainer from another kingdom; a retainer that serves someone he considers himself to be on good terms with.

He asks Laslow to introduce them, to take him up to him when the music is loud and the alcohol had flown long enough to put everyone at ease. There's dancing and shouting and all he can say he wants to do is to dance with the former thief that he hopes will recognize him.

And he does. He's lucky again this time just like he has been in rare times, before. The knowledge gives him hope that settles warm in his chest. It causes him to take a confident step forward while he holds out his hand and Laslow excuses himself despite Odin knowing he wants to tease him endlessly for this (and probably will when the next morning comes). There's a sharp blue gaze that lays heavy on his upturned palm, and Odin worries he won't take it before he eventually does.

His fingers curl instinctually around that tanned hand, warm and rough from use of a bow without gloves. Odin knows full well the strength behind those hands, the ability he holds to protect a Lord that's quite a big deal. It makes him smile to think he's allowed to dance with someone who seems more suited to the battlefield, who seems more suited to stealth instead of being before the eyes of fellow Lords and Ladies who are upon them when he leads him out to the floor.

"If I may ask.. do you remember me?" Odin asks, hand settling on his waist before he finds himself being lead instead of doing the leading, himself.

A smirk. "Of course I do. Who can forget someone so theatrical?"

It makes Odin laugh, and he can't quite say he's been so happy in a long while.

**V + I.**  
He feels nothing but right in this life despite the fact that he's traveled back in time and fighting alongside another dragon. It feels familiar as it is foreign but this time, he couldn't be more than content. This time things have really _worked_. It took time, yet things were relatively smooth.

Smooth enough that he's finally allowed to touch Zero after the end of the war when they're able to explore their relationship and each other a little more. Smooth enough that there isn't another thought but Zero in his mind when he's pushed into his room laughing, the fire hot and blankets spilled out across the floor in front of it.

He sheds his coat and knit scarf and he feels the weight of all his past lives leave him and decides that this is the best one, the one that feels right, the one where he feels truly at home. If he could let this be the last one, he would let it and be happy.

Odin is all smiles where there are hands on his waist, his own just as busy to help undress the archer in front of him; he's all smiles where there's a kiss pressed to the corner of his smiling mouth before he's being eased down to the ground. His cheeks are red from the cold and red from excitement and soon to be even more red from pleasure.

Odin allows his small clothes to be removed, relishing in the warmth of the fire and the hands hot against him that urge him to turn over before they're slick and working him open. He relaxes further with the kisses against the curve of his spine and tenses with cut off breaths at the bites that are left against his shoulders until they're smoothed over as all tongue and no teeth.

He lifts his hips a little more when urged and presses them back as a silent offering into the hands smoothing over his skin before Zero is smiling sweet at him and all he can do is blush before there's thick pressure easing into him.

And Odin can't count a time when he's ever been fucked so sweet and so thorough as Zero buries himself deep only to find that perfect angle, to take it slow until Odin can't hold back a single sound by biting his lips until they're raw. He almost feels overwhelmed with emotion that swells high and chokes him until he's coming into Zero's hand on his cock, until Zero bottoms out and releases into him.

They're like that for a moment to catch their breaths before he feels him move, before Odin's being nudged back to plush blankets with the fire comforting on the skin of his back. The hands against his skin that thread through his hair and trail down his neck are equally as comforting before he's lead forward in a kiss, which he meets with just as much love and just as much kindness. He opens up to him without thought until he's left breathless and with lips kissed pink.

He gives Zero a shy smile, then, closing his eyes to the thumbs that chase the blush on his cheeks across freckles that are pale in the dim light.

Odin supposes he could always live like this if varied timelines would be so generous. He'd be happy to live forever with Zero like this, content by the fire while snow falls outside with whispers of ' _I love you_ ' on his lips.


End file.
